


A Cloudless Night in Iceland

by Cantatrice18



Category: Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship/Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:28:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantatrice18/pseuds/Cantatrice18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night during the Iceland expedition, Sweet finds himself in a position to comfort a woman he cares about very deeply.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cloudless Night in Iceland

The full moon was shining down on the camp, illuminating the rows of tents. The cloudless sky was rare for Iceland, Sweet mused, staring up from his perch on a pile of boulders. He hated sleeping in tents; the heavy canvas, usually smelling of must and old cooking oils, made him feel as though he were suffocating. The sharp, crisp air of Iceland's inner plateaus left him wide awake, and he had gladly taken over watch duty from the exhausted young man who'd been assigned the unpleasant duty. The silence that only the early hours of the morning could bring was Sweet's favorite time of day.

His enjoyment of nature was interrupted by the sound of hushed, angry voices from the tent row behind him. He did not look back - he did not have to. Only one person in the camp could muster such intensity without waking a soul. Only one had such passion, such seductive pleading even in her rage. The man with her kept his voice equally soft, his low, steady rumble contrasting with the fierce rise and fall of her speech. The voices grew louder, then suddenly stopped as he heard the sound of a tent flap being yanked open. Gravel crunched under boot-shod feet. It was only when the footsteps stopped that Sweet looked around.

She was wearing only a light camisole over her army-grade pants, her bare arms gleaming in the moonlight. Her long blonde hair fell in waves down her back, but a quick motion of her hands tied it up into a loose bun. The change accentuated the length of her neck and the slope of her shoulders. Had he not seen her in action, guns blazing and eyes burning with the fire of battle, he would have assumed her to be a society beauty. At the moment, though, the weariness that had threatened to overtake them all was evident in each line of her body. Silently, Sweet slipped off the boulder and approached her. She stiffened and looked up as he rested a hand on her shoulder, but relaxed when she saw who it was. Without a word, he let his hands move down her back, massaging knots out of her muscles as well as providing her with much needed warmth. Even with his heavy jacket, the night was still cold. He left her neck for last, and as he ran his fingers along it a groan escaped her throat. She leaned against his chest, gazing out over the plateau. "Sweet..."

He smiled sadly. "It'll be a long day tomorrow, lots of digging, lots of dynamite. Better rest while you can."

She nodded slowly and turned to go, but he held her back with one broad hand. "Helga, will you be...?"

"I'll be fine." Her tone was decisive, brusk, but he could tell that she was not offended. He knew her well enough by now. She walked back towards the tent she'd left and slipped into it, closing the tent flap behind her. Sweet returned to his perch on the boulders, but as he gazed up at the moon once more his mind was elsewhere, still with the strong-willed young woman who now slumbered at her lover's side, out of his reach.


End file.
